The Book Thief - Part One: The First Case
by the stargate time traveller
Summary: Harry loved reading. It was his greatest release, a way of getting away from the Dursleys and the horrors of his life. How far will he go for knowledge?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter. **

**Once again, my thanks to Kourtney Uza Yato for giving me not only permitted me to use the plotline of their story - in this case, the amazing Nicole Potter stories where femHarry has to deal with the emotional and occasional physical abuse before their mistakes blew up in their faces. Granted, this line of stories is completely different from what was written, but there will be similarities. **

**Please let me know what you think, and please enjoy. **

* * *

**The Book Thief. **

**The First Case. **

As he sat in the library in a corner reading a book as far from the windows as he could get away with since he didn't want his moronic cousin and his neanderthal friends to see him because if they did then they would know where he hung around when he tried to get away from them, Harry Potter, aged seven years old, had come to the conclusion life was unfair and weird at the same time.

Worse of all, Harry hated the fact whenever he tried to remember his parents, he could remember only tidbits. He hated the fact he could remember some aspects of his past but because he'd been so young at that time much of it was a blur, but at the same time he hated the fact some of his memories were almost crystal clear.

He hated Little Whinging, hated how the Dursleys spread lies and innuendos about him, although truthfully he had noticed some of the neighbours were sceptical although he wasn't certain since the Dursleys didn't encourage him to go anywhere near the neighbours.

Personally Harry didn't want to be anywhere near the neighbours any more than he wanted to be close to the Dursleys since he had noticed more than a few of them in the road looking at him with disdain, but at the same time he had noticed their uncertainty which made him question just how seriously the Dursleys were taken no matter how respected they were in town.

At school only his desire to learn as much as he could, which had been helped because his cousin was so stupid he had passed over his own homework to Harry when he'd noticed that his cousin was much better than he was. Dudley was a year older than Harry was and yet his unwillingness to learn anything, and he had tried to steal Harry's work a few times, completely missing the fact Harry's work was of a higher quality and his handwriting was neater than the mess Dudley called handwriting.

The teachers might have been told by the Dursleys he was a delinquent, but it was hard for them to prove that when he had no intention of singing to their tune. In any case, Dudley was the delinquent and he was incredibly stupid. The teachers hadn't needed long to realise that Harry wasn't the problem, for which he was grateful.

Dudley had forced his parents to adopting a new tactic which was just as short-lived. They had made him do Dudley's homework for him, and it had the unexpected result of exposing Harry to a higher level of learning; maths, literacy, geography, science.

Granted, it had only been tidbits but it had been enough to improve his knowledge. Harry remembered only too well how the plan had backfired. The Dursleys hadn't taken into account Harry would get smarter but Dudley remained at the same level as always, and he didn't improve in any of the subjects.

Harry lifted his head for a moment, wincing from the ache in his neck. He had been sitting in his spot reading this book for some time - he had no idea how long since he didn't have a watch - but he was wondering if Dudley was still looking around for him or if he had given up by now.

One of the benefits of having access to a local library was he had access to books on the local history and geography of the town, which allowed him to find hiding places he could take advantage of.

More than once, Harry had dug down into his memory to find the best hiding place while Dudley and his gang tried to find him and to beat him up. Harry had quickly learnt the value of hiding spots since he knew the Dursleys would never look out for him.

He hated the fact he would have to leave the library. It was a sanctuary, had been ever since the day he'd worked out Dudley didn't like reading.

Well, sad for him Harry loved to read. But he knew if he didn't return to Number 4 in time, he would be locked out. Alone. It had crossed Harry's mind more than once to simply get locked out and then make his own way out into the world, without the Dursleys in his life.

If wasn't as if they cared about him and his wellbeing, and he doubted very much they would try to look for him out of concern if he did run away.

Unfortunately he knew he wasn't ready for that. Harry had planned an escape from the Dursleys for a long time, but he had opted to wait until he was old enough to do so. At the same time, the Dursleys had made it easy for him. They encouraged him to stay out of their way, so he had plenty of time to himself without them knowing what he was doing.

They also didn't know the times he was put to work cleaning the house, Harry was taking money from different parts of the house. Dudley's bedroom was the best source; his cousin was a pig and his room looked like a sty. Dudley also didn't bother hiding his money, so it was pathetically simple to take a few notes. When Harry had begun stealing the money from the Dursleys since he was aware that if he was to escape, he would need money in order to survive, he had only taken a few notes at a time since Dudley would notice and his life would not be worth living.

A theft was nothing new to Harry. He had first stolen food from school when he had been starved when the Dursleys had tried to punish him for outdoing Dudley at school. Harry didn't feel any guilt since he had been starving and he needed food. In any case, while the teachers at school had quickly realised the Dursleys were having them on, Dudley had made it very clear anyone trying to befriend his freak of a cousin would be beaten up. As a result, Harry had no friends, and he had gotten used to that very fact.

Thinking about what he had just thought….Harry realised there was something else about his life which he considered bizarre. Those weird events which happened around him - that teacher's wig turning blue, finding himself on the rooftop of the school, among other things - and the Dursleys always punished him for.

He didn't know what those events were all about. If it had been small things, like how that television had blown up in _Matilda _then he would have said it was just a coincidence, but what could turn a teacher's hair blue? It made little sense.

What he did know was the Dursleys knew precisely what it was that was happening. That did make sense, otherwise why else would they act the way they did? They were very touchy about it, shouting and screaming at him not to be freakish, but he had no idea what was going on, so how could he stop? But the Dursleys didn't help matters by their beatings.

That was why he was planning on escaping the Dursleys at some point. With each beating, Harry wondered how long he would have left before he was beaten so badly that he would die. Thanks to the starvation he had endured frequently, Harry's body was frail and skinny. He knew it wouldn't take much for them to kill him.

Harry looked down and smiled at the words in the book. The written word was the one true sanctuary he had. By reading books, Harry had the chance to travel to cities in the real world. New York? No problem, find a book, a novel which was set in the Big Apple. On another planet? Find a science fiction novel with an adventure involving aliens. Adventure? Well, there were _Horatio Hornblower _stories or _Sharpe _by Bernard Cornwall. Harry had read dozens of books already, including _Great Expectations, The Jungle Book, The Time Machine, Bleak House, Doctor Syn, Moby Dick, White Fang, _and many others covering various topics. He wished he could take some books back with him to the Dursleys so he could read them in the cupboard to stop himself from growing bored. Unfortunately books were as welcome in the Dursley house as he was. The Dursleys didn't like reading which was a paradox since they read magazines, or in Dudley's case comics, but they didn't read books. Harry wondered if the Dursleys hated books because they knew he liked them, but that made little sense.

In the end, Harry had decided not to let it worry him, and he focused on the book.

He looked back at the clock again, and he saw the time. He winced, knowing he would need to leave now. Vernon didn't like his dinner late, and he knew only too well what would happen if he didn't get back to Number 4. He sighed and he put the books he'd been reading at the same time for the last few hours back on their shelves, trying to stretch the delay as long as he could get away with before Harry picked up his bag and left. He poked his head slowly out of the library, looking left and right for any sign of Dudley and his gang but he couldn't see any trace of them.

So far.

Harry sighed and he walked out of the library and he began to walk back to Privet Drive, opting for the slightly scenic route. He knew it was a long shot since there was a chance Dudley and his friends knew about his love of the library, and they'd stake it out, but he doubted they'd go that far; Dudley had a short attention span, and his friends were no better. They wouldn't hang around a library for hours and he knew it, they would leave sooner or later, but that didn't mean they couldn't occasionally come close and wait him out, although they'd be in for a long wait.

"Hey, Freak!" Harry sighed when he heard Dudley yell, and he turned around and found his fat cousin close by, and he looked around and cursed when he saw the rest of Dudley's gang. He knew this was not going to be good, and as they closed in on him, jeering, Harry wished there was a way he could fight back….


	2. Chapter 2

The First Case.

Harry panted, wheezing and groaning with pain as he ran through the streets. His body was screaming at him, begging him to stop so then he could rest up and literally lick his wounds, but he knew he couldn't. The reasons why were running after him, yelling their usual, unimaginative taunts.

"Freak!"

"We're gonna getcha this time, freak!"

"You're gonna get it, today Potter!"

"You're gonna learn you can't get away from us, freak! Mum and Dad will make sure of that! They always say you're a waste of space, and you're gonna get it when I tell them what you did!"

Although he was panting madly from the effort of running away from the gang, Harry had to admit he was impressed Dudley was able to say all that and he was still able to keep up; usually, whenever Dudley chased after him and yelled threats like that, he would stop for a minute to catch his breath.

It didn't always work.

His cousin was so fat and lazy it was a wonder he didn't collapse whenever he stood up.

As he kept running - Harry had learnt the hard and easy way that he needed to be in shape at all times, otherwise, days like this would end up with him going to hospital, and ordinarily, he would have either outrun the other kids since they had the hobby of spending a lot of their time sitting in front of the TV, stuffing themselves full of junk food ranging from burgers to pizzas, crisps, ice cream, and heaven alone what else.

While he hated living with Dudley and his parents, especially when it came to the lack of a proper diet for a growing kid, Harry had to be thankful he managed to eat enough to keep himself going during messes like this - Harry had time to think while he tried desperately to think of some way of getting out of this mess.

He had somehow managed to escape from the gang - when he looked back on this moment, later on, he would suspect that the gang had been beating him up so badly his magic had reacted to his emotions and they were simply thrown off of him and thrown quite some distance away so quickly they wouldn't realise what had happened which would have given him the time needed so he could escape, but for the time being thanks to his ignorance of the magical world and the existence of magic, Harry had no way of knowing _what _had taken place - and he was trying to get away from the gang.

Ignoring their taunting, he kept on running. Harry panted again as his body moved which sent more pain through him.

The gang had managed to pummel him for a good few minutes before they'd been thrown off of him, and his body ached as he ran. His lungs were like blacksmith bellows, and they felt as if they'd inhaled the choking smoke and magma from a volcano, but he needed to keep going. Each injury he had taken ached, and only made his body even sorer than before. He knew if they caught him then they would only pummel him again.

Ordinarily, Harry would be able to outrun the gang. It was so easy, and since he was smaller and lighter on his feet, and he practically ran every day, and knew, thanks to the local maps and the history books in the library, some of the more obscure places in Little Whinging which were unknown to the gang but full of hiding places where he could catch a breather and work his way out somewhere else.

And while he knew he wasn't exactly healthy thanks to reading a few books from the library, he was grateful he had managed to work out a few ways of keeping one step ahead of Dudley and his gang of idiots. Unfortunately, there were times where it was virtually impossible for him not to go a day without getting his face punched in, and this looked like one of those days. Even worse, he knew that Dudley would tell his parents about what had happened today, and once that happened Harry knew he would be getting a beating.

Oh, joy.

With luck, and he was dubious about this, the Dursleys might just stop at that but he wasn't hopeful. He had a feeling the Dursleys would just shove him in that damn cupboard and pretty much pretend he didn't exist. What made it worse was he had no doubt they would also starve him. He knew Dudley had just made a very good point instead of making one of his petty, wild threats.

He merely hoped the Dursleys didn't kill him this time around.

Literally, but he wasn't hopeful.

_Enough, _he thought to himself as he looked around desperately for a safe haven so he could lick his wounds while he worried about what was going to happen to himself later. _I can worry about the Dursleys later; right now I need to get out of here. I'm too weak. At some point, I'll slow down and they'll finish the job they've just started. Now let me see….if I can lead them…to the railway station…_

Plan in mind, Harry began leading the way close to the railway station although he made sure he didn't advertise it - it was simplicity to turn down a street, and then down another street, although he was still worried the gang would catch onto his tactics and realise where he was heading for, but that was a chance he would need to accept; at the same time he wondered if he could _actually _make it since his body felt like it was going to literally fall apart any minute now, whereas, on any other occasion, it would be simple for him to reach the place, but thanks to what the gang had done to him today, he knew it would lucky for him to even reach the station, never mind the hiding places he'd found. There was an industrial estate near the station, and there were dozens of abandoned houses there, and as long as he was careful and not sloppy, he could get out of this okay.

He hoped, but he was worried that with his body in so much pain, he wondered if he could get there without slowing down.

Still, he needed to try, and as he ran, taking in deep breaths to inject some fresh energy into his legs to give them some strength. A part of him also wished something he knew his pig of an uncle - although his opinion on whether or not he was even related to the Dursleys or not - would call freakish would happen. At this point, he needed all the help he could get just to escape the gang trailing behind him, and he had definitely noticed whatever it was about him which always made the Dursleys lash out only occurred whenever he was being threatened like this.

_Oh please, come on, _he begged as he panted harder. _Please let me get through today. I don't want to die because my stupid relatives love using their fists too much!_

Nothing happened. Harry groaned and he risked a look behind him. What he saw made his entire body groan, which only exacerbated the pain he'd taken already even more. The gang were catching up to him. At this rate, he wouldn't have long left until they caught him and then they would likely beat him up again.

Not seeing anything else he could do, Harry just kept running while he hoped he could keep going; it had been a long time since he had been pushed like this, but the last time he had been so badly beaten and then chased by the gang behind him right now he'd been lucky enough to be in a part of Little Whinging where he knew there would be dozens of hiding places where he could rest for a few hours or so until he'd gotten back his energy and gotten a second wind. It had been a long time since Harry had been in the same situation but he was unlucky enough to be somewhere in this dump of a town where there weren't any immediate hiding places but with the gang behind him, it would be harder to find one anyway.

_Come on, keep it going, just for a bit longer. Please,_ he mentally pleaded with his body, hoping that his aching chest and bones and his burning heart and lungs had a bit more strength to them otherwise Dudley and his mates would pummel him again until he was sucking in his meals through a straw. As he raced - or tried to race - past the various shops and houses, Harry wasn't surprised that he was being chased by Dudley and his gang and he was clearly in a terrible state physically and nobody cared enough to help. It was a terrible fact of life he had needed to learn to accept, just like it had been a bad idea to ever tell anyone at school what life was like with the Dursleys. It had only happened once or twice, but he had never let himself trust anyone in Little Whinging. The librarians were nice and all, but he couldn't count on them helping him since there was little they could do; the police, as far as he knew, had tried to help him a few times, but they had gone away, apologising to the Dursleys suddenly about the "misunderstanding."

Harry shuddered as he remembered what had always come afterwards. After the second time, Harry had simply decided adults and the law was a waste of time and energy.

Risking a quick burst of speed allowed him the opportunity to risk a glance back. The gang were lagging behind him, their faces red with effort. It was clear they were definitely having problems keeping up with his pace even if his body felt like it was going to fall apart any moment the longer he kept going. Still, a part of him was impressed he had managed to keep his pace going with the gang right behind him, and when he took in their faces as they raced towards him, seeing their red breathless faces, he saw that once again their lack of proper exercise was bringing them down whereas his own problems stemmed from the fact his body had been pummelled so badly it was a miracle he was still capable of walking. He thanked every deity he had read about from the Greek Pantheon to the Buddha himself he had the common sense to jog as often as he could in order to improve his speed and stamina despite having such a lousy diet. When he saw them coming closer, Harry turned around and started to run off again; the brief stop had given him the breather he'd needed to regather his strength, and while it was slight he had learnt from experience to take whatever he could get since it might literally mean the difference between life and death.

He was just coming to a T junction when suddenly two gorilla-like arms shot out, with one fist smashing into his abdomen and a terrible pain shot through him while the next blow to his head made him feel like something had just cleaved his skull in half. When he was lying on the tarmacked ground Harry tried to push through the pain and he tried to focus his eyes so he could see who it was who'd punched him twice. It was painful and seemed to take an age - the blow to his gut had hurt as if the blow had popped it, and the punch to his head had knocked him senseless - but he managed it. Harry tried to move, but he let out a wheezing cry when he felt a large foot stomp down hard on his chest. He tried to wriggle his way free, but he couldn't move more than a few inches, and the weight of the foot holding him down like classical hero standing over a slain beast stopped him moving too far. Harry gave up trying to escape, knowing it was hopeless.

He almost groaned when he saw it was Gordon. The larger boy was looking down at him with a malicious smirk which looked ghoulish and sinister against his red breathless face.

"It's over, Freak!"

Why couldn't Dudley and his friends and parents get fresh material? Having the same insult thrown into your face was enough to get incredibly boring, very quickly. Despite feeling so out of it thanks to the blow to his head, Harry could still hear the sounds of the rest of Gordon's friends as they ran towards them.

"We've got him, Duds!"

"You won't be getting away from us like that again, freak!"

Again with the freak. Didn't it ever get boring for Dudley and his friends? Apparently not.

Harry screamed in pain again as Dudley punched him hard, followed by Pier's kick to the stomach while Gordon laughed and jeered down at him while he kept his foot down pinning Harry to the ground following Dudley's orders to keep him still so he didn't find a way to escape again. Apparently Dudley had managed to scrounge a bit of forward-thinking out of his atrophied brain; Harry would have been surprised otherwise and would have considered it to be a somewhat minor miracle on any other occasion. But right now Harry was cursing his piss-poor luck.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when he was kicked yet again, this time to the chest. This time Harry was certainly one of his lungs had just been punctured. He let out a gurgling cry, the pain so overwhelming he closed his eyes and tried instinctively to fold his body into a foetal position to protect what was left, but with the weight of Gordon's leg pressing down on his chest, it was hard for him to assume the posture.

He was in trouble - really big trouble. If they didn't stop what they were doing soon, or very unlikely someone would see what they were doing and stop them, then he couldn't see any way he could get out of this mess. It was doubtful that even if he could wriggle his way free he could find the strength to run anymore. He was positive the last blow had broken a rib and punctured a lung, it certainly hurt enough.

"Look, Dud, I think we're going too far."

Harry was in too much pain to know who had just spoken, and he didn't care.

"Why, do you wanna go down there too, do you?" Yeah, he was sure that was Dudley.

"No, he's coughing up blood. How long do you think it'll be before someone see it?"

"Why do you care?"

But Harry was starting to get frightened. _Blood? I'm coughing up blood? Maybe I am dying! No, no….I don't want to die. I haven't seen everything or anything out in the world yet. I remember vowing to leave Privet Drive, get away from those disgusting animals who are called my relatives. But thanks to my bastard cousin, that looks like it will never happen! _

Suddenly Harry wasn't just frightened. He was furious, and his pain and fear only fuelled his rage. His anger had started off as a spark as he'd been beaten again, but now it was becoming a white-hot rage that was exploding out of control. He pictured the gang above him, jeering as they beat and tormented him while he was lying there on the ground, unable to move, unable to escape, and he wished they paid the price for what was going on. His rage grew as he pictured the people of Little Whinging who had never intervened and stopped Dudley and his friends form going as far as this.

As he felt this rage, Harry felt a curious sensation, a sensation of _raw power _inside of him. It felt so strange, so powerful, and yet at the same time, it felt like he was being wrapped in a blanket of protection.

To his surprise, he felt the weight of Gordon's foot holding him down….was no longer there. Harry opened his eyes blearily and tried to focus; the cheap glasses the Dursleys had been forced to get him, and had been damaged so many times because Vernon was too much of an uncaring cheapskate to buy him new ones, seemed to have somehow survived this time, but Harry was having a lot of trouble focusing through the lenses so it took a while. When he could see what had happened, his eyes widened in shock.

Gordon was lying on his back, and as his pain-befuddled brain needed a moment to realise that the rest of the gang weren't yelling questions about what had happened to their friend. Turning his head painfully around, Harry received another shock. The rest of the gang were lying on their backs as well. But he received another shocking surprise a few moments later, although it felt like an eternity; his best theory later on when he thought back about the incident was his brain was still trying to cope with the amount of pain shot into the pain centre and it clouded his awareness. The pain in his chest, the all-prevailing agony from the blows to his chest that he had been certain had punctured a lung….they seemed to have healed.

Shocked and surprised that whatever had knocked out Dudley and his friends had also gone to the trouble of healing his injuries, Harry needed a few moments to realise what had happened, and when he did he was surprised and wondered if his pain-befuddled brain was playing a cruel joke on him. But it wasn't.

His body was, more or less, healed. Yes, he was still in pain, and as he slowly climbed to his feet, gently moving around to test just how much of himself that was intact, he thought about what had just happened, and when he was on his feet again he gently examined the gang to see if they were alright. They were still breathing, they were just unconscious. A part of him wished they weren't, but there was nothing he could really do about it now.

As he examined Dudley, Harry knew without a shadow of a doubt his 'cousin' would tell his parents about what had happened, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Harry closed his eyes, knowing that Vernon would really lose it this time; his 'uncle' always lashed out whenever something 'freakish' happened, and he relied on his son to tell him if anything happened. Sometimes Dudley lied, just to see Harry in pain, but Harry knew this was going to be one of the big ones.

Not only had he used his 'freakishness' against Dudley, but the whole of Dudley's gang. Harry knew Dudley would spin it all his own favour, and Vernon and Petunia wouldn't care, and Harry was not looking forward to what was going to be a very long and very painful night.

But at the same time…..Harry had felt a true sense of power inside of him, something that had never happened before whenever one of those weird episodes happened, but even better he felt he had a good idea of what had made the power happen. As he idly stood there, looking down at the prone bodies of the gang while wondering to himself why nobody seemed to be bothered, Harry mused to himself about what had happened, and what that sensation meant.

His 'uncle' and his 'aunt' called it _freakishness, _but Harry was trying to think of a good term for it. After a second he decided that he would wait for a bit until he had enough time to think of a proper name - he was too delighted that he had finally discovered how he could make it work. His anger towards Dudley and his gang of thugs beating him up and seemingly not wanting to stop themselves until he was dead, and his fear over coughing up that blood and dying here on the street, along with so many of the things he had wanted to do with his life like travelling the world, learning languages, and meeting new people while discovering knowledge everywhere he went never coming about because his 'relatives' had murdered him in cold blood had not only knocked out the gang, but it had also healed him.

Fear and anger…

Harry knew he would need to experiment a bit in order to master the power (_Mmm, power? Yes, that seems to be the best term for it; it might not be as cool as the Force from Star Wars, but its simple enough not to be noticed. I can hardly call it strength, but it's still early days, _he thought to himself), but the feeling had been exhilarating.

And he knew one other thing.

He wanted to feel it again.


	3. Chapter 3

The First Case.

Harry winced in pain as he stood in front of the mirror, using his Power to heal his body as much as he could. Once he had realised Dudley and the gang had been knocked out, Harry had left as quickly as he could have gone and he had headed for the nearest public toilet he could find. His idea was he could use the Power to heal himself now he knew how to use it.

Well, easier said than done, but since this was a controlled experiment following an uncontrollable incident, it was unsurprising that there would be setbacks. Harry spent twenty minutes trying and failing to use the Power by using the same emotions he'd experienced earlier, but nothing happened.

In the end, he had spent a few minutes remembering the insults, the pain he had taken from living on Privet Drive.

He remembered all of those nights spent in the cupboard, sobbing silently as he tried his best to remain quiet, frightened the smallest sound would attract the attention of the Dursleys and it would happen all over again.

He remembered the way Petunia had screamed and shouted at him whenever something happened, be it a piece of ruined washing, burnt meals, damage to her precious kitchen which was actually down to Dudley, and he remembered all those nights where he wasn't given any food and he felt physically ill afterwards.

Harry also remembered the neighbours were not much better. While some of them were neutral towards him, none of them helped him, some of them seemingly too frightened of retribution since Vernon and Petunia were both respectable people in the so-called community, and they didn't want any of their relatives to pay since Vernon was an important figure in Grunnings which employed a large chunk of the people in Little Whinging. If they moaned or raised a stink, Vernon wouldn't have trouble sacking them. Still, Harry felt a few could offer help without the Dursleys knowing but all he remembered was the lack of help from the locals, from the so-called police, social services, and he remembered his disgust for them, like today when he had been clearly in pain after being pummelled by Dudley and his buddies.

Thinking about the gang made him sigh, feeling the pain of the latest day 'Harry-Hunting' although it was one of many such instances. He remembered the first time the gang had chased him, how they had caught him and pummelled him, and he remembered the lack of support or sympathy from the Dursleys. He remembered the many long weeks of this until he had changed his tactics.

He had begun slow jogging around the town, building his endurance and his stamina until he was faster than the gang. He remembered how long it had taken him to find the hiding places, from the most basic ones like behind cars to the more elaborate ones until Dudley and his friends were mystified. He also remembered how at school, under the biased eyes of that bitch of a Headmistress, who was a friend of Vernon's, he was pushed to the sidelines although one or two teachers were more sympathetic…

All of those memories swirled around his mind and then he opened his eyes and focused the emotion on his injuries, mentally willing his injuries to be repaired…

Harry winced again, though this time he did it more out of relief than out of any residual pain. Once it had faded a little bit he leaned back and nodded at his face with a smile of satisfaction. The injuries he'd taken were mostly gone now, all he was left with were a few dull aches. But he knew worse was to come.

His smile faded.

He had no idea if Dudley had regained consciousness by now, but he knew, either way, he was going to get a terrible beating; he had simply lost the track of time, and so he didn't know if Vernon was back at the house or not, but he knew the Dursleys were not the most forgiving bunch. When they discovered what had happened with their precious son and his buddies….

The Dursleys hated it whenever they or _Dudley _saw his "freakishness," and they always beat him for it. When others saw something happen…Harry shuddered as he remembered the last time it happened, and it had been an event he had never wanted to go through again.

When he had blasted the gang with the Power, Harry had been high. For once he had managed to deal a blow to the gang…and then it had been replaced with misery.

He knew that sooner or later the Dursleys would discover what had happened.

Harry sighed, cursing the fact he had no way out of this. He closed his eyes, sighed again, and he walked out of the gents. He had no idea just what the Dursleys would do _now _but he hoped that it wouldn't prove to be too fatal.

XXX

Harry backed up when he saw the look in Vernon's face. The fat man's face was purple in hue, darker than it had ever been in his memory, furious….Harry had once read a book about dogs foaming at the mouth with rage, and he could see the foam in Vernon's mouth.

"You….!" Vernon growled, pausing as he tried to push the words out of his mouth, but the man was too angry to form coherent sentences. "You _dare _HARM DUDLEY AND HIS FRIENDS WITH YOUR FREAKISHNESS?"

Harry didn't dare open his mouth. Arguing with the Dursleys never ended well. In any case, why would they listen to him now when they had never listened to him in the past?

He was silent for a moment as he thought about how he'd reached this moment. As he had thought, he was late back to the house (he didn't see the place as home, never had and never would since there were so many bad memories, and if he had his way, he would live long enough to find a nice legal and maybe illegal way of purchasing the land and evicting the whole neighbourhood and then turning it into a park or something) but he hadn't been too late. The moment he had arrived he had been pleased to see Vernon's car wasn't back yet, but Petunia was, and she had been furious since he hadn't been there to cook dinner. What, was the sucked dry bitch incapable of cooking or something?

When Vernon had returned, he had been in a towering rage.

Why?

Because one of Vernon's friends had found Dudley and the whole gang knocked out, although they had managed to come around again shortly after Vernon had arrived. Apparently Dudley had told him what had happened, or more likely what Vernon wanted him to say. Something Dudley and his chums had done instantly.

As soon as Vernon and Dudley had stormed into the house, they had given a quick summary of the situation to Petunia, and now she was looking at him with loathing. And fear. In fact, so was Vernon, although it was hidden by his anger, Harry had seen it once or twice to know it for what it was and it made him wonder just what it was about him that terrified and angered the Dursleys so much. But he never asked them; for one thing, the Dursleys hated it whenever he asked them anything, although why he had no idea, but he guessed it was a control thing for them. It was just sad it was sometimes so pathetic.

For another, why would they tell him? Again, it was simply a matter of control. But what he could not work out was why they thought it would last. Surely it occurred to the senior Dursleys he would find out, sooner or later, what the Power was.

Thinking about the Power…Harry decided how he was going to get through this. A part of him was just tempted to use the Power now, stop the Dursleys from attacking him, but he quickly decided against it. His control over the Power wasn't great. He still needed to practice. In any case, he knew if he showed he had the Power, it might make the Dursleys lash out even worse than before. That was the last thing Harry needed right now.

Make what happened with Dudley look like a fluke (fortunately, or unfortunately, the male Dursleys hadn't mentioned or brought up the injuries which had been healed, and he hoped it stayed that way although he was curious about why it hadn't been brought up; part of him guessed Dudley had either not noticed, or the entertainment he was going to get had made it slip his mind), and it would give him the time he needed to both heal himself, and to practice as much as he could without getting caught.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Dudley being held by his mother, who was muttering those stupid reassurances to Dudley as if he were still a toddler. The sight was both nauseating and pathetic.

Harry choked and gurgled when he felt something massive grip his shirt. Looking down he saw the purple skin of the meaty paw.

"I'm going to stop you being a freak once and for all, Boy!" Vernon growled, his hand tightening around his shirt, making it hard for him to breath. As he watched his _uncle _raise his other hand, which had already been clenched into a purple fist, Harry only hoped that this beating would not prove to be fatal….

XXX

Now he knew how to use his Power to heal himself, it was easier the second time for Harry to heal his body, but it was still painful and with every wince, as his brain was overwhelmed with the pain he was feeling, he was left cursing the Dursleys more and more.

The beating Vernon had given him had lasted for what seemed like an eternity, and it would have carried on if Petunia hadn't told her husband to stop; Harry had noticed that the most about his aunt, while the dried-up bitch hated him, she didn't want him dead whereas her neanderthal husband and son did.

Vernon….Harry closed his eyes while he focused his newfound Power on healing the worst of his injuries, trying hard to exorcise the image of the pig bastard, grinning face as he pummelled him. Harry knew Vernon enjoyed the beatings a little too much, and it always made him wonder just how far Vernon was willing to go…

Harry opened his eyes and focused on his body. Much of the damage had already been repaired, healed. But he knew he couldn't heal himself completely otherwise Vernon would notice, and go off on one of his rants and beatings which made him feel like such a big man. Harry had read but had glossed over a few psychology books, and he wondered if the beatings were meant to compensate for something in Vernon's minuscule mind.

At the same time, Harry had time to think.

The beating had been bad, but he had been through his fair share of them over the years, and this time Vernon had gone away, smug in the belief he had "finally beaten the freakishness out of the brat," and he had decided to starve Harry for the best part of three weeks.

Harry had no intention of letting the Dursleys think they could starve him, and he was sure once he had truly learnt how to make his Power work, it would be easy to find a way around the problem, and there was only one way he knew how to use the Power to get him the food.

Theft.

Harry wasn't bothered by theft; he had stolen his own fair share of money and food, either from the Dursleys although he had needed to be very careful since he knew if they Dursleys caught him or guessed what he had done, then he would be lucky to get out of the house on his feet. But truthfully, as long as he was careful, they wouldn't notice; the Dursleys had such an arrogant opinion of themselves, believing that he was too frightened and battered to even _think _of stealing off of them.

Stealing from Dudley was the easiest option. Dudley was a pig and his rooms looked like a sty since they were both filled with broken junk that Harry's obese cousin simply did not _need. _It was also simplicity in itself to find coins Dudley had carelessly thrown aside, and since Dudley never bothered to properly keep track of his things, it was easy for Harry to take small amounts; his ears still ached as he remembered the screeching from Petunia, who believed he had taken some of her son's things, only to be revealed to be wrong.

Once Harry was finished healing himself, he settled himself down and prepared himself for a long period of practice. He had a lot to do, and he wanted to see what he could do with his Power.

He sat in the Cupboard for three hours, paying only the smallest amount of attention to the sounds coming from the living room as the Dursleys watched television as if nothing had happened. In that time, he learnt how to move things with the Power, discovering he could move things from one corner of the Cupboard to the other, while summoning other things into his hand, and then sending them back again.

Once he had mastered that, Harry began multitasking to see what he could do at the same time. With his mind, he visualised himself moving one of the old cavalrymen figures to the left which had been left in the Cupboard a long time ago, while he twirled his finger and levitated another soldier figure and sent it orbiting above his head in a circle around and around his head. At the same time, Harry summoned another figure into his hand before he sent them back to where they had been before.

After he was finished with his experiment, Harry quickly began another experiment. He closed his eyes and focused on the backpack stuffed in the cupboard with him. With his mind, Harry opened it up, and he opened his eyes and smiled when he saw what he had done, and he focused on his English exercise book.

The book came out of the bag and laid itself neatly on the small shelf that acted as his 'desk.' Harry flicked his hand, mentally visualising how many pages were to be flicked through before he reached the right one. He smiled in satisfaction as he saw that he had found the right page. As he went along, he pulled more books out of the backpack, and he flicked through them all at the same time, and as he went along he gained some expertise with multitasking.

Harry found he could flick through the pages of one book while mentally visualising the pages of another, all without touching the pages of the others once he had worked on his concentration; sure, at first he'd made mistakes, flicking through them all so fast until he had reached the same number of pages in the books but he had worked out quickly how to get it right. His smile disappeared once he had finished mastering the skill, and he leaned back thoughtfully so he could think.

He knew how to use his Power. He knew he could summon and banish and levitate things with his mind alone, and he could heal himself and knock people out like he had done with Dudley's gang even though he didn't know what else he could do in that corner, but he didn't know what else he could do just yet. Everything was so new to him right now, in any case, he still had lots to do. So much to experiment with…only he didn't know what he could do.

Looking around the dark cupboard, at the junk which the Dursleys had stuffed into the place to make life as difficult for him as possible for him, Harry just found it impossible to find inspiration to develop his Power, and he thought of all the other instances his Power had spiked. And then he realised something important.

His Power was more versatile than just idly moving things with his mind. He could do a lot more. Harry lay down on his back and thought to himself, ignoring the size of the cot with practice, he had more to think about than worrying about some pathetic show of the Dursley's cruelty. He was trying, very very hard to think of how he could turn any object into something else. Well, he knew he would need to visualise, but still….

Harry quickly sat up, knowing that if he didn't try this right now, he would be nagged by it all night. He summoned the cavalryman figure into his hand, and turning on the light, he placed it on the 'desk' and stared at it for a second, trying to work out what he could turn it into. He looked around, hoping to find something simple to use for this test, and he spotted more figures. Harry didn't know their story, he didn't know if they had once been Dudley's old toys, although he doubted it since they'd been in the cupboard for as long as he could remember, it made little difference; he had found his inspiration.

Harry closed his eyes and focused his Power on the cavalryman figure on his horse, mentally he pictured the cavalryman off of his horse, standing next to it while holding onto the plastic animal with the reins. It wasn't the most imaginative picture, but it was simple, and if it went wrong, great. That meant he would be closer to perfection and help him get better.

When he opened his eyes, Harry chuckled with delight at what he had created.

"Now I've done that, I can move on," he said to himself before he looked around the cupboard, and smiled when he saw the door. "Oh yes. I will definitely move on."

XXX

Harry slowly opened the door and peeked out of his Cupboard. He relaxed when he heard the sounds of the Dursleys upstairs, and he slowly got out of the Cupboard.

He smirked. "They're all asleep. Great, this will be straight forward."

Harry walked to the front door, snorting quietly as he overheard a particularly loud snore coming from upstairs. "Pig, the lot of them are farm animals."

Waving his hand, Harry unlocked the front door and opened it and then he disappeared out in to the street.

Harry didn't have far to go. He merely went into the houses on the street. Well, the ones he knew did not have any dogs, using the Power to open the doors as silently as possible, and he went to the fridges. He didn't completely empty the fridges or cupboards, he only took a piece of fruit there, an apple, a banana, some grapes, or some ham, a few rolls, biscuits and a few pieces of chocolate, but not a lot so then no-one would notice.

When he got back to the cupboard, Harry ate what he could, making sure not to eat too fast even though he wanted to since the Dursleys had starved him quite badly, but he forced himself to eat slowly. As he chewed and swallowed, Harry felt his body regain its strength. As he ate he also reflected on something else.

"I will definitely do this again," he mused to himself, not really concerned that he needed to steal in order to feed himself. It was better than getting the scraps from the plates of the Dursleys. The only problem he had was there were limits to how much he could actually take, but he didn't think it was a problem. He wasn't a pig like Dudley, but he knew the temptation for more would be overwhelming.


End file.
